


Tales from a Lapsed Medievalist

by terma_archivist



Category: Highlander: The Series, The X-Files
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-01-01
Updated: 2002-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:13:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26536354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/terma_archivist/pseuds/terma_archivist
Summary: Parody, XF/HL crossover Context: my disturbed brain took Sue Ashworth's typo ""geat,"" an error for ""great,"" and tried to remember whether it was Beowulf or Hrothgar who was a Geat. Sue responded: My mind is now running to pictures of Mulder in his kirtle, with his hair bound in plaits...
Collections: TER/MA





	1. BeoMulder

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alicettlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [TER/MA](https://fanlore.org/wiki/TER/MA) and was moved to the AO3 as part of the Open Doors project in 2019. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are the creator and would like to claim this work, please contact me using the e-mail address on [the TER/MA collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/terma/profile).

  
**BeoMulder  
by Nonie Rider**

  
High is the heart : in his hazel eyes,   
Mighty the edge : of this man's mind;   
For his clever wit : Fox they call him.   
Borne on his shoulder : to the waiting longboat   
The captive he caught : and will keep for his use,   
Strong-limbed and stark : and striped with woad,   
Methos the Mindful : mighty in spirit,   
Fairest his face : among fighting men.   
Now is the ancient one : held to new service;   
Secret and subtle : he hides his smile.

Deep in the shadows : of a dark fjord,   
Eyes like the ocean : narrow in anger.   
Empty one sleeve : of the slave's tunic;   
Never shall he : bear shield again.   
Raging, the half-Rus : plans his revenge   
On the hazel-eyed hunter : who took his arm.   
Never for him : honored holm-ganging,   
The clash of spears : and the kiss of swords;   
His are the ways : of the wild oath-breaker,   
Murderer, traitor : hating his master   
Whose secret hall : smells much of smoke.   
Green-eyed he waits : guarding his grudges;   
Heart-deep he holds them : heavy his anger.   
Yet does his man-tool : betray the traitor   
Springing and standing : like a spear for battle,   
And his high heart : is hurt within.—

Nonie the Relapsed Medievalist 

[email removed] 

Parody, XF/HL crossover  
Context: my disturbed brain took Sue Ashworth's typo "geat," an error for "great," and tried to remember whether it was Beowulf or Hrothgar who was a Geat.  
Sue responded:  
My mind is now running to pictures of Mulder in his kirtle, with his hair bound in plaits...   
Feedback can be sent to [email removed]   
Web Site <http://avalon.net/~nonie/slash.html>  
---


	2. A Ratte's Tale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Parody, XF/HL crossover Context: my disturbed brain took Sue Ashworth's typo ""geat,"" an error for ""great,"" and tried to remember whether it was Beowulf or Hrothgar who was a Geat. Sue responded: My mind is now running to pictures of Mulder in his kirtle, with his hair bound in plaits...

  
**A Ratte's Tale**

by Nonie Rider 

  
A Ratte ther was, a fallen traytour knighte,  
Who was inne leathern doublet well bedighte,  
A knyffe held hidde within, a smyle withoute;  
A handsomm evyl knave withouten doubte.  
And yet love gnawed him like a ratte hys preye,  
And made him wake by nicht and mourne by daye.  
For so hadde Cupid prycked him with his darte  
That on a lovely Foxe he sette his herte,  
And yet the Foxe's father he hadde slain,  
Whyche made much sorrowe fall between them twain... 


	3. How Do I Glove Thee?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Parody, XF/HL crossover Context: my disturbed brain took Sue Ashworth's typo ""geat,"" an error for ""great,"" and tried to remember whether it was Beowulf or Hrothgar who was a Geat. Sue responded: My mind is now running to pictures of Mulder in his kirtle, with his hair bound in plaits...

  
**How Do I Glove Thee?  
by Nonie Rider**

  
This hitman walks into a bar.

Bartender says, "Hey, Alex, there's a guy here wants to talk to you."

So the hitman walks over to the end of the bar and says, "Yeah?"

And this guy at the end of the bar, he's like "Hiya, pal." And the hitman can see that the guy's like some kinda gypsy, you know, the scarf and the earrings and stuff. And he's got this black leather glove on the bar in front of him.

So the hitman says, "Whaddaya want?"

And the gypsy goes, "This is a magic glove, and I'll sell it to you for only ten thousand dollars."

So the hitman says, "Yeah, right."

And the gypsy smiles at him and says, "No, really. Lemme show you." And he gets out this gun and sets it down on the bar.

And the hitman's got his own gun in the guy's ribs before he's finished drawing, but the gypsy doesn't pay any attention and he sets his gun down on the bar and says, "Glove, clean my gun."

And the glove walks—on its fingers, you know?—to the gypsy's pocket and takes out a gun-cleaning kit, and by God it really does clean the gypsy's gun, right there on the bar.

And the hitman, he's a little surprised, yeah, but he goes, "So what?"

So the gypsy puts his gun away, and he says to the hitman, "You got a knife?"

And the hitman just smiles.

So the gypsy says, "Here, cut my hand. Not too deep, you know?"

The hitman shakes his head, but he takes out this knife and cuts the guy's hand.

And the gypsy says, "Glove, fix my hand."

And the glove walks on its fingers over to the gypsy's pocket and pulls out a first-aid kit and by God it really does stitch up the gypsy's hand.

And the hitman blinks, but he says, "Yeah, so?"

And the gypsy says, "Okay, so maybe you don't believe me because I'm using my own gun and my own hand. I'm only gonna show you one more trick, but this time let's use something of yours."

And the hitman thinks about it, and then he says, "Okay, this is my favorite leather jacket, and I had it altered to hide my gun, but the guy who did the alteration did a pretty bad job, and now it doesn't fit very well. Can your glove fix it?"

And the gypsy says, "Sure. Glove,—"

But he doesn't get any farther because the hitman stabs him in the back of the neck with an icepick and then blows the glove away with his gun, and they both turn into ugly green goo and disappear.

And the bartender's, like, staring, and he goes, "Alex, that's amazing! How did you know something was wrong?"

And the hitman says, "Easy. Glove is not glove that alters where it alteration finds."

* * *


End file.
